We are recovering after the rough shelling that we took on D-Day.  M hit us with enough emotional shrapnel to make our hearts look like Swiss Cheese.  Thankfully, and this is probably the only time that you will see me type these words, but we were able to go back to work today which helped take our minds off of our bruised parent-egos.  We sit though dinner this evening mostly in silence.  Each of us wondering what tonight’s Skype call with our wayward daughter is going to bring.  Will she want scream and cry on the webcam begging to come home?  Will she hurl bathroom word-laden insults at us again?  It’s time for the call.  (If you would like to catch up on Installment 1: https://genericdad.com/2010/06/13/into-the-wild-installment-1/)

Our stomachs are in knots as the Skype gods decide how many attempts we have to make before getting the webcams on both ends working.  The gods say 3 times tonight (it was at least 5 times last night).  Immediately we can tell that GG and M have had a long day.  They both look like our Skype ringtone woke them up.  Half-closed, drowsy eyes stare blankly back at us.  We pepper them with questions about Day 2 and quickly find out why they are a heartbeat away from being zombies.  They went to M’s great grandparents, they went to the mall, they went to build-a-bear.  Apparently there is a store where you go and build your own stuffed animals.  (What would the Taiwanese sweatshop workers say if they knew that rich Americans were out to get their jobs?).  They went to the lake beach again,  and finally they went to the park.  A pretty lazy day…if you are a marathoner, or triathlete…

Once again M showcased that she does not possess the ability to miss her dear parents (or primary care givers, as it probably sounds in her mind)  During the 2o-minute call we saw her little face a total of 5 minutes at best.  The other 15 minutes consisted of GG’s glossed over haze-eyes all the while there’s a purple blur shooting to and fro in the background.  One thing did improve in the fact that ony one of us gets to be called a bathroom part.  Yes, it was me and I get called “Daddy Butt”.  The rest of the conversation from M revolves around her panhandling for Mom and Dad to make funny faces.  I think that we may be raising a future homeless person.  She does not seem to care where she lives, and apparently she is already mastering panhandling skills.  I say that she is mastering begging because when we sat through that 20 minute Skype call with our tongues out and making pig noses.  If she were on the street she would have just earned a cool five bucks for “gas money”.  Stay tuned for tomorrow’s installment which is now a quest for our daughter’s affection…